


Normalcy

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coping, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Moving On, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2782814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam realizes, Fiona fights, Michael denies.  All three of them struggle with the aftermath of what James Kendrick did to their family,  but it's Sam who ends up learning what his best friends really mean to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normalcy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merryghoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryghoul/gifts).



> Thank you to my betas a, r and b for helping me smooth this story out.

It had been a long day.

Sam was used to long days ever since his un-retirement, but today took the cake. Between becoming a temporary fugitive, nearly losing his life in a warehouse firefight and struggling with Madeline’s death, he was exhausted and yet still keyed-up deep inside; sometimes high-pressure situations for SEALS could feel like a refreshing shot of espresso to the average person. 

But the op hadn’t gone smoothly, and this time the casualties had left a mark of sadness that a beer couldn’t wipe away. He swallowed hard at the memory of losing Maddie; God, he’d nearly lost Mike and Fi, too. Sam and Jesse had been forced to fish them both out of the water with their bare hands while a three year old shrieked at them from the car, an unpleasant memory that would likely last him a lifetime. While they were all safe now, the damage had been done to Charlie; he had gone into complete hysterics, forcing them to draw straws to decide who would stay with him. Jesse and Fi got stuck with babysitting duty while Sam and Mike tried to figure out a way to safely surrender to the FBI without getting any of them shoved off into a black zone.

The problem was that Sam and Mike had no real idea how to tackle their little problem without getting the rest of the team locked up in the hoosegow for good; it was like playing chess with human pieces, and Sam didn’t like it, not one bit. And so, trapped temporarily in deep thought, a few moments of silence passed before Sam’s reverie broke and he responded to Michael’s question. “Really, Mikey? Botswana?”

“Botswana, Sam.”

Sam Axe sucked on his teeth for a moment before exhaling slowly. He remembered Botswana; remembered the op that had gone sour there in spite of their best efforts, and the grandstanding he and Michael had done to get themselves free of a sticky situation. They’d have to do the same thing here; Sam wasn’t afraid of it, his muscles remembered everything, like a ballerina trained to remain on the point of his toes. But he had to say it out loud anyway. “It’s a helluva risk.” Then he tapped the steering wheel of his new Tiburon with deep contemplation, teeth grinding together. The early October sunshine gilded the gray streaks in his hair as he cast a look of pure concern at Michael. “We’re gonna have to move fast,” he said. “Fi and Jesse have Charlie in the other safe house, but you know the feds are gonna come looking for them.”

“I’ll call Jesse, ask him to turn himself in after a few hours. Fi can handle herself.”

“But they’re gonna want…”

“….She can handle herself. This doesn’t concern her,” Michael said.

Sam knew it definitely did, but he knew when to clam up. “Right. I’ll remind you of that when we’re on our last phone call. Oh, and Mike?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“You might wanna change your pants before you head inside. You kinda smell like low tide and it’s wafting all over,” he grimaced.

Michael gave him a sarcastic look, plucking a familiar pair of shades from his front pocket and putting them on. “Just drive, Sam.”

Sam grinned and plunged the keys into the ignition.

*** 

Turning themselves in involved enduring a hilariously bureaucratic parade of forms, examinations and searches, such a labored process that Sam soon yearned for the debriefings he’d endured back in Beirut. They soon found themselves face to face with Strong, who passed them cups of coffee as he settled down behind his desk. Sam glared at the waxen paper tucked into his hand, watching his reflection shimmer gently in the surface of the liquid inside.

“Well, gentlemen,” he began. “Would you like to tell me why Kendrick is in pieces all over the old Times building?”

“A simple miscalculation,” Michael said dryly. “But we did give you what you want.”

“That’s right,” Sam cut in. “He’s dead, but we have the codes.”

Up went Strong’s eyebrows; nobody in briefing had apparently bothered to give him the lowdown on that. “We’ll take those for analysis. If they test clean then you’ve fulfilled your mission. Again,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re one lucky bastard, Westen. It could only happen to you. The country is in your debt.”

“All in a day’s work,” Michael said. Sam slugged down his coffee, watching Michael’s tense stance. 

“You know we could reward you for this pretty handsomely. We have outposts all over the globe, and they’d kill for the sort of talent you have.”

“And I’d kill to get out. All the way,” Michael said. “Can you arrange it for me?”

Strong exhaled deeply, slowly. It was as if he’d been gut-punched. “What else do you want?”

“My friend’s names cleared. Sam’s pension to be reinstated. I want Fiona off the FBI’s most wanted list, and I want you to finish clearing Jesse’s burn. And I want my nephew’s custody to be resolved as soon as possible.”

“Why not ask me to move a mountain?” Strong asked.

“The kid’s suffered enough,” Sam said. “He’s basically an orphan. We’re gonna bury his grandmother in the next week.”

Strong grunted, rubbed his temples. “It’s not going to be easy. This is going to involve a lot of cooperation. The top of the line, they love you. Always will.”

“They have such a strange way of showing it,” Michael deadpanned.

“Right,” Strong said. “I’ll see what I can do. But first, we need to look these codes over.”

Sam did so, reluctantly. Strong didn’t know yet that Sam and Jesse had carefully made a copy of the list and had it locked away at the safe house. But he had no time to complain, for he and Michael were taken to separate rooms and debriefed. He was in the middle of smirking to Strong about the bitchiness of spies when one of his underlings ran into the room and whispered something into his ear, excited as all hell.

Ten minutes later he and Michael were reunited and released to permanent freedom.

*** 

They tracked Fiona down to one of Sam’s old safe-houses; a single-level beach house he’d inherited from a ladyfriend during an amicable break-up. It was glass-windowed and white-roofed, and ocean breezes parted the curtains with comforting regularity. Fiona hadn’t slept but had changed into a tee-shirt and jeans, her hair up in a loose bun. Sam stepped back to give her room as she flung herself at Michael moments after he walked through the door, leaving them to the privacy of their joy while he checked the parameter. He peeked out of a window to see Jesse and Charlie playing catch in the surf; there was a quick grin of acknowledgement from Jesse and then he turned his full attention back to the kid.

Sam circled back to the living room and tossed himself onto the couch with a groan. His back was killing him, his thighs ached from running and all he wanted was a cold beer and a hoagie the size of his forearm. 

Fiona and Michael joined him. Together and yet lost in their private worlds, they tried to come to grips with the event of the day.

But, as always, there was a next step. One of them needed to broach the subject. Might as well be Sam. “So,” he said, “what happens now?”

“Whatever you want to happen,” Michael said. “You’ve done more than enough for me, Sam. I don’t expect you to stick around after the mission’s done.”

Sam eyeballed Michael. “Did you forget something?”

“He is your best friend,” pointed out Fiona. “He’s going where I’m going – nowhere.”

Michael stared evenly at Sam. His best friend was never willing to give an inch to Fi, to agree to her plans, and this turn of events clearly puzzled him. But just as quickly, Michael said, “I suppose we make good of our knowledge while Charlie grows up safe.”

“I do still have a valid bounty hunting license,” pointed out Fiona. “And I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to get matching ones for you boys.” 

That was a useful idea. “We’ll figure it out,” Michael said. 

The glass door parted and Jesse peered through the gap. “Hey, Charlie’s getting hungry. How do you guys feel about dinner?”

“Pizza!” shouted Charlie from his perch atop the man’s shoulders.

The adults shrugged. “I can stay if you don’t mind having me,” Sam said.

“When have we ever minded having you?” asked Fiona. She smirked and reached for her cell phone.

*** 

It was past midnight before Sam thought to call Elsa, and by the time he dialed her number his only answer was an endless ringtone. Mike and Fiona offered to come with him to the hotel, but he declared that to be too much of a risk to their safety – and so alone he came back to the penthouse.

The scene he found within wasn’t violent or dramatic; it was just sad. For Elsa sat in the kitchen, her arms wrapped around a wooden bat, holding it like a baby as she slept. She must have seen the reports, must have known what was going on, and had decided to protect herself in the most practical way possible. He instantly dropped his gun on the counter. “It’s me,” he said, holding up his palm. “I’m safe.”

Elsa’s whole body trembled as she rose to her feet, and her tears flowed anew. “You didn’t call, you didn’t text…”

“I was in a high-speed car chase,” Sam said. “And then I was running around an exploding building after listening to one of my best friends make a huge sacrifice. Then there was an exploding building. Everything kinda ran together – sorry my manners disappeared.”

Elsa’s hand shook as she rested the bat against the floor. “I can’t handle this kind of stress anymore, Sam,” she admitted. “You have to tell me the truth: is it over?”

Sam bit his bottom lip, gave her a quiet, nervous laugh. “Yeah. Mike’s burn’s clear, and we’re not wanted anymore.”

“No, Sam,” she said. “I mean the danger. I mean the running around, the danger, the being at Michael and Fiona’s beck and call twenty-four seven.”

Sam shook his head. “You knew I was a SEAL when you got into this relationship,” he said. “It’s always going to be a little dangerous, being with me.”

Elsa took a shuddering breath. “Then I can’t be with you anymore. I’m sorry, I just…I can’t….”

“Hey, hey. I know you’re a little shaken up, but things’ll settle down quick. Besides, I uh…I do still love you.” Sam said, as if he’d never been in love before in his life as his hand came to rest on her shoulder.

She shook her head sadly. “I love you too, Sam. But I think there’s something else – someone else – you love more.” She rested her face in her palms, shrugging off his hand. “I think you need to get your things. You can stay here tonight, but after I want you gone.”

Sam agreed. It was all he could do, having put her through so much and having watched everything they’d established crumble to the ground.

**

When he showed up at the safe house with his duffel bag, Michael just let him in.

***

In the days that followed they had too much to do to even take the time and consider their circumstances. Sam put his shoulder to the grindstone, helping Michael set up a sale for the lot that had housed Madeline’s house, then helping him and Fiona arrange the funeral. Finally he was pressed into service for the ceremony itself, and he served as pallbearer and eulogist at the actual ceremony. Sam did his damnedest to give Maddie the send-off she deserved. Michael remained remote throughout the entire process, to the point of spooking Sam. 

So Sam turned toward the only thing that seemed to promise stability for all of them – he took on a case.

**** 

The simple promise of helping out an old lady resulted in Michael getting poisoned and Sam having to hold a gun runner hostage for the antidote. A typical day at the office, Sam tried to joke, gagging his heart back into his chest. Fiona rolled her eyes, staying stony quiet as they headed back to the beach house.

“Look,” Sam confronted her, once Michael was in bed. “I screwed up. That’s on me. But don’t give me that silent treatment BS. I think we know each other too well...”

Fiona responded by hauling off and slapping him. “Did you see the look in Michael’s eyes? He almost died!” She smacked Sam again, seeming to enjoy the sound of it, the wounded look in his eyes as she did.

Sam just grabbed her by the wrists, shaking her twice. “Don’t you get, it, Fi? I don’t want him to get hurt, either.” She struggled in his arms as he lectured her. “Don’t you think I’m hurting too? I lost my best friend! I lost my home! I gave up everything for this friendship, damn it!”

Tears oozed from the corners of her eyes, and Sam regretted his roughness, his grip loosening. She lunged at him, but not to deliver him harm.

No. She went to kiss him. 

And Sam caught her in mid-leap. He grabbed her by her ponytail and dragged her into a hot, sharp, quick kiss, one that seemed to burn up his good intentions, swallowing him whole in a single gulp.

**** 

And in the morning there were rumpled sheets and a toddler to tend to, and a still-sick Michael to check in on. Sam took a hot shower, pointedly avoiding talking with Fi, then took the car to the site of the loft and considered his prospects.

He’d messed up. Big time. Broken the code that had guided him for ages. Mikey was going to shoot him, and he honestly couldn’t blame him. Damn it, there had to be a way to make it up to the both of them, something that would clear his ledger in their minds once and for all.

And then it dawned on him. 

He reached for his phone and dialed Sugar’s number.

*** 

He got back to the beach house twenty minutes later – by then he was smiling. Even brought a fresh sack of groceries, and Fiona sniffed at his awful taste before unpacking them. Sam fluffed Charlie’s hair and patted Michael’s shoulder in a playful way.

“Hey, Mikey – how you feeling?”

“Pretty good,” he confessed. “Did you bring the yogurt?”

Sam grinned. “Later, tiger.” He slapped his hands together eagerly. “So guess where I was today?”

“Was it up your own arse?-”

“Hahaha.” Sam reached for Charlie and blocked his ears. “It’s actually in the groceries.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow and dug about in food – pulling out a large wooden signed marked ‘Axe, Glenanne, Porter, Westen’. She raised an eyebrow. 

Sam grinned. “I called up Sugar. He’s looking to unload the loft now that it’s been burned to a crisp and I know a guy who knows a guy who’s a carpenter and owes me a favor. I know Fi’s still licensed to hunt bounties, just like she said, and it shouldn’t take a lot for me and Mike to join ya – again, just like she said. So if I cut through the all the red tape I can, in twenty four hours we should have our own detective agency.” He wiggled his brow and grinned. “What do you think?”

“….How very practical of you, Sam,” Michael said, flat-voiced.

Sam chuckled nervously, his eyes darting from Fi’s face to Michael’s. “But…Fi was the one who…”

“It may have been my idea, but I was just thinking out loud. We have to think about what’s best for Charlie. Why did you arrange our lives without asking?” Fiona snapped.

“You should have asked us before you committed to this, Sam,” Michael said. “Fiona’s right. We have to think of Charlie first and foremost, and the kind of hours PIs work aren’t easy or short.”

“We can think of him and still stay in the business,” Sam insisted. “Come on, guys, just picture us – kicking bad guy butt and helping folks, but this time we can do it out in the open! No more hiding!”

“We’ll have to think about it, Sam,” Michael said.

“I won’t,” Fiona bristled. “You’ve been getting awfully barmy lately. I don’t know what’s going on but I don’t like it.”

“Maybe I don’t plan on going solo anymore,” Sam said. “After everything that happened to your mom, to all of us, all I can say is that I don’t wanna waste another lonely day.” Sam took the sign from Fiona. “This is where I belong – where I’ve always belonged. Right here with you guys. And I hope that someday we’ll be together, but til then I’m gonna vamanos…”

“Uncle Sam,” Charlie called plaintively, but Sam turned from the family scene and headed out the front door.

***

Sam disappeared for awhile into a network of safe houses, onto basement couches of friends of friends. He didn’t expect his emergency-emergency phone to ring again, but when it did Michael was at the end of his line. He and Fi were pinned down in the Keys. An investigation of Charlie’s teacher’s ex-husband had gone sideways in a hurry. They needed his help. Could he come?

He didn’t even consider saying no.

It turned out that they had just enough time to hash things out. In the middle of a fire fight staged to cover Fi while she rushed Charlie’s teacher out of the area, but at least they got to talk.

“Mikey,” said Sam, keeping chin-level with the ground, both hands wrapped around the base of his scope rifle, chin on the window ledge, Michael’s back to his back. “I don’t know if you know this, but I really do love you. Both of you. Just a friendly reminder next time: warn me when we’re about to fall into the hands of cocaine dealers.”

“That’s not something predictable,” Michael pointed out. “Is that why you’ve been upset? I thought you like surprises.”

“I tell you, Mikey – after everything we’ve been through I’m looking forward to a little domestic shut-eye,” he admitted, then added between bullets, “uh…Mike, just in case we don’t make it out of here, take care of Fi, all right? Uh, not that I care what happens to the little banshee.”

“Sam, I know what the two of you did.” Michael blasted a hole in the leg of one of their attackers as he kicked down the door. “I’m not upset about it. I wouldn’t be having this conversation with any other man,” he said, a slight tone of warning in his voice. “But with you…somehow it’s different. Maybe I really do have…” he sounded as if he were struggling to hold back a throatfull of vomit, “feelings for you, too.” 

There wasn’t much more to say, not with Michael climbing over Sam’s hunched back to better shoot at the guy trying to cut off their exit path out of the dirt-water motel room Fiona and Michael had been using as an operation’s base.

“You’re a regular Romeo, Mikey,” Sam declared. 

“I’m working at it,” Michael said, stone-faced, rushing the door as their attackers surged forth.

*** 

They didn’t make it to their rendezvous with Fiona entirely unscarred. Sam had a large cut over his brow, and Michael ripped a strip from the sleeve of his olive tee-shirt to stop the bleeding.  
  
  
“Thanks, Mike, I…” To his surprise, Michael leaned over, kissing his cheek. Sam grinned –and shifted, latching on to Michael’s lips. Stock-still and surprised, Sam did and said nothing. In all of their years together, even at their loneliest, most intimate moment, Sam had never dared to kiss Michael. Actually doing it felt a little like licking a cave wall – ice cold and stiff as a board - and so he remained persistent, until Michael’s muscles relaxed and Sam won a dopey moan from him.

A quiet cough interrupted them, and guiltily they pulled apart. Fiona was watching, and she seemed just a tad bit angry.

Sam just laughed and offered her a hand.

“Oh, all right you old bastard,” Fiona grumbled, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him.

*** 

It would never be entirely easy. Charlie’s big reaction to the long upheaval of his third year was to develop night terrors. Then he took to wetting the bed and all three of his guardians found themselves trying to convince the kid everything was fine, restricting his liquids and spending hours washing his sheets. Sam knew a therapist, and they got him some help, but he knew the process would be a long haul.

Their friends hung around a little less – including Jesse, much to Sam’s dismay and surprise. Jesse liked his office job, his orderly life, and his ability to attract women with a wave of his hand too much to join them in a unified prowl through the streets of Miami. Sam saw too much of himself in the kid sometimes, knew he wouldn’t be interested in something with less structure for social freedom. It didn’t stop Jesse from helping out, but not as frequently as in the old days.

Every day, Michael and Fiona and Sam went with Sam’s construction buddies to the loft and worked themselves raw. It paid off. Soon where once a somewhat trashy disco stood there rose an office building. The final office was simple and attractive, decorated meticulously by Fiona and always with an empty room upstairs for a friend to crash in.

That would never be the same, either, but Sam was fine with that. 

They tried to relax into their new relationship, acclimate themselves to the introduction of sex and gunpowder into their camaraderie. They moved Sam’s terrible kitschy furniture and Fiona’s bloody paintings and Michael’s forty identical pairs of khaki slacks into the beach house. Sam stocked the fridge with beers and yogurt. They all bought Charlie toys and balls and things to play with on the beach and juggled cases with school functions. 

And Fiona started collecting snow globes again. Michael didn’t ask her how she’d smuggled one out of the Keys, but some part of him was proud of her efforts. It sat happily beside a golden orb filled with fake sand and palm trees, the base wrapped around twice with the word ‘Miami’ spelled out in clay. 

Sam headed to the mantle and shook it whenever he needed a little extra time to think out a plan. “Let’s try not to get this one burnt,” Sam would say, resting his cheek atop her head.

She smirked against his neck. “It had best not be,” she said. She pecked his cheek. At least that was getting easier.

Sam didn’t know. Maybe all of this settling down meant that their travels were finally over. Maybe their journeyman souls had finally been laid to rest, complete with a child, a house and a ‘real jobs’.

Or maybe, he thought, they had just begun.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, merryghoul! I tried to avoid making it overtly fluffy while tackling everything that happened during the finale in a different way.


End file.
